


Merrymaking

by DirtKilling



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Autistic Will Graham, Christmas Party, Ensemble - Freeform, Gen, Hannibal Lecter is Not a Cannibal, Holidays, Potluck, alternate universe no murder, alternating pov, everybody is friends i guess, i dont even show the eating part agsgfdssdf, just fluff, only vaguely xmas themed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtKilling/pseuds/DirtKilling
Summary: A late Holiday Potluck fic, no murder, just friends.
Relationships: Alana Bloom & Will Graham, Alana Bloom & Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Bella Crawford & Will Graham, Will Graham & Beverly Katz, Will Graham & Beverly Katz & Jimmy Price & Brian Zeller, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, hannibal lecter & bella crawford
Kudos: 5





	Merrymaking

**Author's Note:**

> This is late for Xmas, but whatever, it's on new years. I have recently had some wisdom teeth removed so I forgive myself.
> 
> How do they all know each other in this au? I have no clue! Imagine whatever you like.
> 
> Thank you to my sister for looking it over!

"Will, I must ask you something," Hannibal told him as he pulled a loaf pan from the oven. Will looked up tiredly from his spot across the kitchen island, leaning his elbows on the counter.

"What is it?" He said, as if he was really saying 'go ahead, let's hear the bad news.' Hannibal paused as he set the hot pan down then flipped it gracefully over onto a rack.

"Did you suggest carpooling tonight because if we arrived together, you would not feel so bad about only bringing a box of chocolates and a bottle of cheap wine to a potluck?"

Will scoffed, amused."I'm not piggybacking off your dessert, thanks. I've got scalloped potatoes in the car, I can reheat them in the microwave when we get there." Will noticed a tiny almost imperceptible grimace on his friend's face at the mention of the microwave and decided to pour more salt. "Besides, I hope you know the most expensive wine there'll be worth 15 bucks, max."

Hannibal wiggled the pan off the cake with pointed focus. "Despite what you want me to say, I will have a grand time tonight rubbing elbows and drinking terrible wine. I will not be crucified as a complete snob." 

"Well, maybe not today. Just remember you can't only eat your own food." Will told him, half snark and half genuine. Hannibal glanced at him. 

"If you are to be taking up counter space in my kitchen, I would prefer if your hands were busier than your mouth." He told Will nonchalantly, and set a grater and a small bowl down decidedly on the chop block perpendicular to him. "I need the zest of one orange if you please." He nodded to the fruit bowl filled with citrus and dragonfruit and another exotic fruit Will couldn't name.

Will couldn't help but chuckle as he got to work, but soon fell silent, the orange peel’s fragrance distracting him. The sharp tang smell of the oils bursting from their capillaries. The tiny bright orange strings gathering and falling into the bowl.

"I’m afraid I must ask you something else," Hannibal said, grabbing a small pot with a cloth draped over it from the large fridge. Will prompted him with a short hum.

"Do you possess any romantic inclinations towards Alana?" He asked, whipping the covering off the pot.

Will huffed out a surprised laugh.

"Ah, no. She gave me a speech long ago that was alarmingly similar to the one you gave me when we met." Will scraped the zest clinging to the grater with his fingers, knowing the fragrance would probably linger "She cleared that mud years ago and I think it was for the best."

Hannibal paused halfway through folding the cloth neatly. "Are you referring to what I told you at our second appointment? That I held too much of a personally-driven concern for your welfare and gave you a referral, or," he folded the cloth in half once more neatly and did a quarter turn at the hips in Wills direction. " the speech I made two weeks later over dinner, that any romantic notions either of us held for one another would not be a good idea to pursue?"

Will set the bowl of zest closer to Hannibal's workspace and went to rinse his hands. "Well, both in a way, now that you mention it, but I was referring to the latter."

He heard Hannibal let a breath out through his nose in a soft huff. "Well, at least you know where she stands." He folded the orange zest into the syrup in the pot gracefully. 

"It hurt for a while but it hasn't bothered me in a long time. We really are much better as friends." Will answered, taking a sip from his now-cold tea from earlier. Hannibal got a glint in his eye.

"Are you talking about you and Alana, or you and I?" He asked Will with faux innocence, not looking up from his task.

Will reached over to the bowl of sultana raisins and flicked one at Hannibal. His friend gave him a dry look, but only picked up the raisin from where it fell and popped the fruit in his mouth. 

"I'm sorry, dear Will, but it seems you have a type."

"What? Psychiatrists that reject me?"

"If that is how you want to put it," Hannibal replied, verbally shrugging. He poured the Cardamom-orange zest glaze over the cake on the rack. Will only knew it had cardamom because he had asked what the little black seeds Hannibal had been straining out of it earlier were.

"What about you?" He challenged, "Take anyone to the opera lately?" 

"Only myself," Hannibal responded, straightening up from moving the cake to a plate. "I find myself very infatuated with my habitual solitude."

"I hear you there. Just me and my dogs, and I’m happy." He shifted on his elbows with a grimace. His rotator cuff had been giving him trouble lately. "Other than the occasional dinner, of course." He allowed, gesturing vaguely.

"Or potluck." Hannibal agreed with a quirk of his lips as he laid raisins artfully atop the cake. His version of a full grin.

"You aren't going to decorate with bird bones or anything, are you?" He blurted as he watched, then backpedaled, "Only, it's a more casual party an-"

"I am decorating only with raisins and pistachios tonight, Will. Nothing elaborate or unorthodox," Hannibal assured him. The slurred sibilants of his accent grew more pronounced when he was amused. He began laying the nuts next to the raisins in a waving line down the length of the cake.

"It is one thing, to show off in one's one home," he continued, "entirely another to do so everywhere else." 

"Fair enough."

"Wouldn't want you uneasy about your microwave potatoes." He told Will, straight-faced. His only tell - which Will always caught - was the minuscule raising of his brows as he made eye contact.

Will managed to hit his nose with a pistachio.

….

Alana had always loved the holiday season. Though her mother had been technically Protestant and her father Jewish, neither actually practiced much of anything. So there had never been much celebrating of actual holidays of any kind in their home. Despite this, she and her brothers had loved string light displays, and gift-giving, and skating parties with friends. Their parents had never participated much but had observed contentedly.

She also loved potlucks, though she had never hosted one until now. She had underestimated how much thought would go into it, or maybe she just underestimated her ability to overthink things. Either way, she was a little less relaxed than she’d anticipated for this point in the evening.

Not everyone had arrived, but no one was late yet. She was still waiting for Jack and Phyllis, who were bringing a square of some kind, Will, who was bringing potatoes, (not fish? She’d teased him), Hannibal, who was bringing a cake, and Beverly Katz, who hadn’t confirmed what she would be bringing.

Bedelia, who had arrived most recently, had brought only an expensive box of chocolates and an even more expensive bottle of wine.

Alana just hoped her roast chicken would stretch. There was lots of food, she reminded herself, calm down.

Hannibal and Will arrived together fifteen minutes late, hauling their dishes in like precious cargo from the car, a dusting of snow coating them both from head to toe. She offered to take Will’s dish from him while he took off his boots. Hannibal had his high-end insulated bag with handles, he could handle himself.

“Those will need to be reheated,” Will told her sheepishly, shrugging out of his jacket. It was endearing, seeing him with his fogged glasses and forest green sweater, a brown plaid flannel collar sticking out the top. He had even combed his hair for the occasion.

“I am sorry Alana, for our slight tardiness, I’m afraid I gave some unwanted directions and poor Will had to answer for it,” Hannibal told her, unraveling his scarf from around his neck. It was the new one she noted, pleased, the angora one Jack had gotten him a week ago when they had their gift exchange for just the four of them.

“Just keep in mind next time that I do more driving on the outskirts of Baltimore than you do,” Will responded blithely, taking back his casserole dish.

“I will in future defer to your vast commute expertise,” Hannibal said with a humble incline of his head, the humor in his voice audible to anyone who knew him. 

“Well, don’t worry about it. You aren’t even the last here.’’ She told them.

As they followed her into the kitchen like ducklings, Alana wondered if there was something between them. She dismissed it though, She doubted the likelihood of both of them keeping it from her.

…

When they entered the kitchen they found Phylis Crawford plating the squares she and Jack brought on one of Alana’s favourite serving platters. Good choice. 

Jack’s booming laughter could be heard from around the corner in the dining room, where Alana had last seen Jimmy, Brian and Liza. The dessert was pale golden with pink swirls and had a crunchy looking crust at the bottom. It looked delicious.

“Bella.” Hannibal greeted with a smile in his voice, and leant in to kiss her cheek. “You look as radiant as ever.” She smirked tolerantly at him, and returned the gesture.

“And you look dashing, per usual.” She looked to Will as who was sliding his dish into the microwave, her smile tired but happy. She was still a little haggard looking, but Alana was secretly anticipating the 9 letter R word any week now.

“How are you, Will?”

He smiled back with a bashful exhale.”I’m doing just fine, Bella.”

Alana still couldn’t understand how they both could call her confidently by Jack’s nickname for her but thought it was sweet nonetheless. She could barely stop herself from calling the older woman ‘Mrs.Crawford’ to her face. Beverly had mentioned to her once that she and Brian felt the same way. 

Months ago, over dinner at Jack’s, Alana had bravely asked what Phylis genuinely preferred after Jack had told the story of the nickname’s origins yet again. Phylis had only chuckled. 

“Alana, you can call me whatever you like.” she had told her “ Just because these boys like to joke around, doesn't mean you have to follow suit.” 

“Baby,” Jack had told his wife, the wine leeching soft affection into his tone. “If I thought these two weren’t giving your title the respect it deserves,” he said gesturing with his fork, “ they wouldn't be let into our home.” His eyes had twinkled.

“To Bella.” Hannibal had toasted, “named for her beauty, inside and out.”

“Hear, hear!” Jack had agreed in delight, and Will and Alana joined in the toast with a laugh. 

Alana still couldn’t call her Bella though.

Halfway through Bella's telling them about her mother's recipe,("My mother never taught me to cook, but she was a baker not a chef and these were one of the most valuable lessons she ever taught me. That stuck anyway") the doorbell rang again. It had to be Beverly, Alana thought, as she excused herself to answer it. 

Unless Frederick had changed his mind from his bottle of pretentious scotch and his 'no thank you I'm not coming' card. She rolled her eyes as she thought of it. He knew she prefered beer. 

It was Beverly. Carrying a whole crockpot of something that smelt mouth-watering.

"Sorry I'm late Alana, my damn truck wouldn't start." 

"We've all been there. And haven't started eating yet so it doesn't matter. Here, I'll take that and plug it in." She offered. Beverly handed her the crockpot. Inside were delicious looking meatballs in gravy.

Alana found Will alone, as Hannibal and Phyllis had left for the dining room. Bev joined them in the kitchen a minute later, her face flushed from the cold and her hair a little damp from the snow.

She smiled when she saw Will, stepping up to him to wrap an arm around his shoulder and give a half-squeeze, half-shake.

"Hey champ, you clean up nice."

Alana was fairly certain that Beverly was the only person who Will allowed to trample over his boundaries like that. If she or Jack tried to touch him like that he'd probably flinch away. Hell, if Hannibal tried, he'd probably get his hand slapped away, she thought wanting to chuckle. Alana was glad Will had that. A friend like that. It seemed to do him good.

……

The evening was winding to a close. Beverly lounged in one of Alana's tasteful and cozy armchairs, listening to the dwindling murmur around her.

The night had been fun, loud, and chaotic at moments - Liza had won trivia, the bitch - but for a holiday party that wasn't with her mom, dad, and sister, it was pretty dang good.

Will and Brian were in a somewhat one-sided(on Brian's part) debate on the merits of Star Trek versus Battlestar Galactica. ("What do you mean you haven't seen any Battlestar? Or Enterprise?" "Zee, I don't have a TV, the last time I watched cable of my own, TNG was still airing.")

They had been talking about Jimmy's new apiary, which Will was very interested in. Bug freaks. Beverly had stopped listening intently about halfway through.

Brian had commandeered the conversation when Jimmy had started to fall asleep into his side.

Alana was showing Liza to the door and they were both giggling about something in the hall. The sound was very festive and sweet.

Jack and Phyllis had gone home only about an hour after everyone had eaten, Mrs. Crawford had been tired out. Beverly was glad she'd been able to come, she seemed like she'd been a bit brighter lately.

Hannibal had left without Will twenty minutes earlier, sharing a cab with Bedelia, who had leaned heavily against the (other) good doctor on the way out the door. 

Maybe she should have taken fewer smug sips from her wine during her and Will's snark fest earlier, Bev thought with a snort.

"What's so funny?" Zee asked, sounding a little indignant. She rolled her head over to see her boys all half-asleep(or fully in Jimmy's case), sunken deep into the huge couch.

"Nada. It's just been a good one, hasn't it, guys?"

Will gave her a sleepy, crooked smile without lifting his head. "It sure has, Bev."

**Author's Note:**

> Note: the Liza mentioned is Liza Lake, a character briefly in the book Red Dragon, I added her bc why not.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Comments are lovely.


End file.
